


The Flowchart

by diogeegohome, underwaterporcupines



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, an ace author goes off with descriptions of physical intimacy, and several days on this, fenton is warm, flustered gyro haha nerd, gyro just likes planning ahead ok, please enjoy, we spent two hours on the flowchart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diogeegohome/pseuds/diogeegohome, https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaterporcupines/pseuds/underwaterporcupines
Summary: Fenton spoke, trying to distract Gyro from his anxious thought process. “Dr. Gearloose, I think you forgot to take another outcome into consideration.”“No, that’s impossible, I’ve taken every situation I could think of into consideration, what could I possibly have missed?” he answered, still shocked by his previous realization.“This.”
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	The Flowchart

**Author's Note:**

> based on [ this](https://underwaterporcupines.tumblr.com/post/629389239044440064/diogeegohome-and-i-imagined-if-gyro-ever-got-to) flowchart lmao  
>   
> (mild s2 and s3 spoilers if you actually read the chart)

“Where did you want these copies, Dr. Gearloose?”

“Just put them on my desk,” Gyro said absentmindedly.

Fenton trudged over and plopped the formidable stack of paper on top of some other loose sheets, but there was something underneath making the pile unbalanced. Fenton frowned and stuck his hand under the pile to investigate. He patted around for a moment before recognizing the object as a button that was seemingly inset in Gyro’s desk. “Now that is peculiar,” he muttered before turning around and asking, “When did you install this?”

Gyro made a noise similar to the one he made when Lil Bulb shocked him the other day and all but _dove_ at Fenton. “Don’t touch that!”

Too late. Fenton had pressed down on the button in panic when his boss started barrelling towards him.

 _“Shit,”_ Gyro muttered. Fenton gaped; he’d never heard profanity in the lab, except from Manny. His boss buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry about this.”

A whiteboard was descending from the ceiling. As it got closer, Fenton began to make out little boxes of text, connected by arrows. It was a flowchart. The web was surprisingly large. Soon, the source box was visible and the board was still, in position.

Fenton’s eyes were glued to the chart. Gyro didn’t particularly want to witness the destruction of his professional reputation in his co-worker’s eyes, but he couldn’t look away. His cheeks were burning, but he attempted to keep a straight face anyway, expecting some degrading commentary or derisive laughter. He could hear Fenton reading aloud under his breath, _gets married… fake my death… hates me? Move back to…_ He chuckled a little after he read _army of Lil Bulbs._

Finally, he looked back at Gyro. “It’s quite impressive, Dr. Gearloose.”

Gyro felt his face slip into something of a glower, still terribly warm. “Impressive?”

“Absolutely.” Fenton nodded, then said with a playful smile, “Though it’s interesting that you didn’t have ‘me finding the chart’ as a possibility.”

“Actually, I did.” Gyro walked over and pointed to a smaller, separate chart in the lower right of the board. It read: _Fenton finds this chart → fake my death._

Fenton frowned. “If I may ask, why do so many branches lead to you faking your death?”

“I find that it’s often the easiest, most straightforward solution to many problems.” He answered naturally, without any sort of hesitation.

“So, essentially, running away from your problems?” Fenton asked, a bit amused, a sentiment his boss definitely did not share. “No offense.” He retracted, a bit embarrassed.

“Saying no offense doesn’t make it less offensive! I’m your boss, in case you forgot, so you could at least pretend you have a little respect left for me.”

“I do respect you, Dr. Gearloose. I’m just… surprised, that’s it.” He kept scrutinizing the flowchart. “May I ask you a question?”

“You already did. Several times.” The scientist was trying his hardest to maintain his cold, professional facade, although the heat on his face probably didn’t help. “Go ahead.”

“How come you never entertained the possibility that I might be straight?”

“Because you're not.”

“How could you be so sure about that?"

“Cabrera, I might have a hard time reading most social cues, but if anything, my gaydar is impeccable,” the chicken stated, crossing his arms, posture as proud as he could manage given the embarrassing situation he found himself in. 

“I suppose you're right, I don't really try to hide the fact that I'm bisexual.” He shrugged it off. “Another thing, though?” the duck started, a bit insecure.

“Yes?” his boss responded, unamused.

“It’s just, if you were to, you know, fake your death, wouldn’t you care that I’d be sad?”

“You would what?” The chicken seemed genuinely taken aback by this statement. “I didn’t think you were capable of sadness; I’ve never seen you genuinely sad. Sure, angry, upset every time I tried to fire you, but sad? You—you get sad sometimes?” Gyro was visibly conflicted. Freaked out, one could say. “Oh god, this is all wrong,” he said, nervously scrambling through his drawer to find a marker. “There's so much I have to fix now, this is a disaster!” he muttered, pacing in circles, twisting the marker in his hands, practically pulling at his own feathers.

Fenton spoke, trying to distract Gyro from his anxious thought process. “Dr. Gearloose, I think you forgot to take another outcome into consideration.”

“No, that’s impossible, I’ve taken every situation I could think of into consideration, what could I possibly have missed?” he answered, still shocked by his previous realization.

“This.” The duck summoned some courage and confidence from nowhere and pulled his boss in for a quick kiss. It was almost a blur, but the intensity of it was strong enough to slightly dislodge the scientist’s glasses.

Fenton's hands lingered on Gyro's shoulders. He could feel the stiffness in his body and see the panic in his eyes. "Dr. Gearloose, are you okay?"

Gyro stayed frozen, save for closing his mouth and straightening his glasses. “Fenton.”

Ah, heck. His boss had never called him Fenton before. He cringed, jerking his hands back to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I’m so sorry, I hope that didn’t feel too pushy! Right after I sprung that other… variable on you. Agh, I’m so…” He bounced a hand off his head. “I knew it wasn’t on your chart, but I did it anyway! Forced you out of your comfort zone! You can fire me for real now, I won’t say a word about th—”

“No, you’re fine! I’m not going to fire you for this.”

Now it was Fenton’s turn to freeze. “You’re not?” He glanced back at the flowchart. “It just seems so likely.”

Gyro tilted his head. “It _did,_ but I think the probability of that outcome has decreased drastically in the past ten minutes.”

“What about the outcomes where you fake your death?” Fenton said, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Well, I wouldn’t say they’re entirely out of the picture,” Gyro admitted in earnest. “I still need time to process. This was... unprecedented, to say the least. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He pocketed the marker he was holding and continued, “Er. How are you feeling?”

Fenton pushed his hair back and breathed out slowly. “Well, like you said, there’s a lot to process. But it’s okay.” He gently picked up Gyro’s hand and covered it with his own. “We’ve been through a lot together. We can get through this together, too.”

They stared at each other for a second, until Fenton looked aside and started to step away. Normally, yes, Gyro would have appreciated the space to think, and Fenton knew it. But that moment wasn’t normal. He gripped Fenton’s hands tighter, caught a glimpse of the surprise on his face, closed his eyes, and pressed their mouths together once more. His right hand found its way into Fenton’s hair, and his left held his body close. They exhaled in sync as they broke apart.

Fear set in when Gyro realized what he’d done, and he blushed. Hard. His mind raced, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say after the kiss _he’d_ initiated: _Thank you? Excellent work? Good talk? Don’t go? No, he’s not going anywhere. He’s… he’s really warm. Oh, shit, he’s hugging me._

Gyro got enough sense together to squeeze back briefly. Though it was over in a matter of seconds, the hug embodied months of fleeting glances, hidden smiles, unspoken promises, and, on one end, hours poring over a flowchart. All of their secrets dissolved like a styrofoam cup in a puddle of turpentine, and when they separated this time, all that was needed was a nod to decide what to do next.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” Fenton said. Gyro watched him disappear into the elevator and took a seat next to the whiteboard. To familiarity.

Marker in hand, scanning the whole flowchart once again, the scientist found about a hundred things that needed changes or revisions at the very least, but his marker hovered over one specific endpoint. _We die happy (impossible)._ Maybe he was a fool for feeling suddenly hopeful, maybe he was too idealistic, as he was sure his past, more rational self would tell him. But right now? Right now, everything he’d thought impossible was starting to make its way into his life. So he could allow himself to feel a little hopeful.

No longer hesitant, he drew a straight line across the word. He took a couple of steps back to admire the modified endpoint, and allowed himself to slightly smile.

Maybe hoping wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
